


The Closest Thing to Love

by LovelyLIBRAry



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Creampie, Danny's actually tolerable!!, F/M, Nipple Play, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rough Kissing, Scent Kink, Unreliable Narrator, light spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLIBRAry/pseuds/LovelyLIBRAry
Summary: "...You were Danny's, and Danny always took care of what was his..."
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 150





	The Closest Thing to Love

**Author's Note:**

> I am horny for non rapey and somewhat-affectionate Danny content. I read HELLA ghost face fics in this fandom and am very excited to contribute! Let me know what you think ;)

The rain falls heavy around the campsite, dulling the world around you to a saturated grey. It sheds off leaves and pine needles in a rhythmic patter, almost monotonous if not for the crackling timber brushing shadows across the grim faces surrounding it. There's a chill in the air even the fire can't seem to fight. It prickles your skin, settling frigid in your bones. Like you couldn't move even if you tried.

You don't get many rainy nights like this in the Entity's realm; the only time you experience as much is in trials in the Red Forest. And as much as you'd like to lose yourself in this moment of stillness, its timelessness only reminds you of your fate. Of how there's no escape. The pour mists tendrils along the edges of wet bark and mossy earth, and the way they sway makes you think even the Entity knows your thoughts. Each breeze carries icy giggles. 

You can't take it. Even now. There's nothing new about this rain. Nothing new about the cold. It can't wash away the blood staining your clothes, haunting your face in thick, crimson streaks. It can't wash your hands of your teammate's deaths, of being too scared to fix generators or rescue their bodies from hooks. The rain can't take you back to before the fog, where you could sit cozied up in a too-big sweater, hair light from a warm shower, sipping something _real_. Sometimes you'd doze, eyes slipping open and close in an easy lull. Other days you'd read, slipping into another world. Sometimes the nostalgia of it all made you wish you _were_ in another world.

But now another world is all you're stuck in. Sleep evades all, the Entity's whispers jolting you awake when your eyes shut to pure exhaustion, and only that. You didn't think you could escape, gave up the false optimism long ago when Dwight still welcomed more and more of you survivors. It was honestly more tiring trying to keep up the charade than face the truth. And maybe one day you'd be proven wrong, but until then it was better letting that cold numbness sink in. You'd have lost your mind trying to pick up the pieces each trial.

It didn't matter what Bill or David tried to preach, the games fucked with your head. They broke you, time and time again, and the only real way you knew was the muffled migraine and mending aches you awoke with after each trial, ghostly memories being your only reminders. And the glares. The glares and open looks everyone cast around. Bottled grudges and repressed guilt. It's not that it all fell on you, but sometimes you still found it hard to get others around even the same gen as you. 

Especially when you were the obsession. Call it a gift or curse, one thing you'd found in this hell was an intuition unmatched by even the blindest fool. Maybe rationalists would call it paranoid analytics, others a learned apprehension woven into your subconscious. Regardless, it always blossomed in your mind when _he_ was in the games, always filled you with a dreadful glee.

Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson only liked to be addressed as such in the shadows surrounding the campsite, where he'd whisper sweetly wicked things to you behind trees. Jed was different from Danny, and it was your life if you mistook Danny for The Ghostface. It took a long time for you to learn the distinctions, and in a past tainted with blood and pain, it was a wonder you'd even the patience and courage to brave him. But there was a sick magnetism in the killer's dark ways, a flattering charm in his unwavering desire for you. You'd felt guilty wanting him back, yearning for the intensity in a world so bland, even pain couldn't cut through the veil.

Eventually, you gave in. Morals meant nothing in a world with a deity unjust and impure. The Entity was selfish, torturing the survivors and killers for what seemed to be her own sickly pleasure. Why couldn't you be too? You don't regret the life you lived before being dragged into this hell, even missed it when sometimes, in just the right lighting and hopeful mood, the houses in Lampkin Lane reminded you of home. But before, where you were bound and shackled by obligations and morals, you can actually rub your wrist now. Of course the Entity punished you for going against her games, but so long as you pleased her, you could please yourself--however you'd like.

And your sin happened to be lust. Maybe infatuation was a better fit. Because whatever you and Danny had, it wasn't love. Didn't even glance the edges of it. He smiled with too much teeth when he choked the breath from you in trials. You shook a little too hard each time you missed--or even landed--your decisive strikes. Even though the games never ended, you were too mortal for a hellish fiend like him. Blood ran too thick in your veins, ichor in his, for you both to ever meet. You were only wed through the reaper, and the little deaths in between.

But pleasure wasn't your only escape with him. It wasn't love, but there was something in the way he held you, almost too tight, that made you think you were safe, even if for a little. When he rested his chin on your head, and sighed so deep you'd rock with the waves, there was just a...rightness in the silence around you. Danny would never be sane, probably never was even before it all, but you'd like to think when you looked into his eyes, saw them steady instead of blown and manic, that you both could find some sanity in each other, even if a little.

And that was the beauty of rain. It reminded you of your loneliness, of how swept away you were in a time long past. But now that time was all you had, being swept away in a whirlwind chilled to a drift. The whispers only grew louder, your memories too stuffy. Hooks and stabbings and cannibalistic hungers all morphed together in your mind in a giant, tense ball of _red_ , _red_ , _red_. 

You just wanted it to go. You needed the darkness.

In the while you'd sat awaiting another trial, a growing resolution built within you to brave the rain in search of Danny. The Entity seemed especially lenient with you today, not wanting to bend her plaything too far lest it broke. You didn't care, appreciated that you could finally rest your throat from screaming. You even let yourself savor the cool, earthy chill with quiet, meaningful breaths. It cleared your head enough for you to look around yourself as you stood to walk into the woods, unsurprised no one really seemed to care. You politely waved at Dwight when he glanced your way, though; guy was the sweetest thing you had around here.

The ground was much louder after the pour. It squished and squeaked beneath your boots, and you tried tried _tried_ not to think of that time a couple matches ago when you'd heard the exact same thing, except you were in a basement, and Dwight was on the ground, and the Hag feasted, louder than his screams, gross mush and ravenous delight, not stopping even as you ran over the blood and the entrails and the gens you had to find a gen--

Gloved hands cover your eyes, jolting you from your tunneling thoughts. The sound of rippling fabric cuts through the air. A hollowed voice whispers, "boo."

You're still shaking, because even after so much time learning the differences between Danny's shaky, excited breaths and Jed's deep, almost-too-even ones, it still scares you when you can't hear them at all. Sometimes the Ghostface and Danny were so similar, though, it didn't matter if you tried. It was a Russian Roulette of its own.

"Danny..." you whispered, a little shaky. It didn't matter if you were wrong, you needed him. His name was a silent plea to ease whatever sickness plagued his mind. 

With the ringing silence following your words, you expect a blade to meet your throat. Or burrow into your side. Instead, you feel his hands lift, turning you around just as quick. His mask is still splattered with blood, and its dark eyes still fill you with a distant dread only your body remembers. But now, he curiously tilts his head to the side. It's still quiet; you still can't hear his breaths. But you don't feel his hand gripping a knife because they're resting firmly on your hips. He's searching you for something.

He lifts his palms up, and for a minute you think he's going to grip them over your neck. You'd already accepted as much coming out to him, alone. Defenseless. He knows this. 

Instead they cusp your face, oddly warm despite the thick layer or leather separating you from his touch; maybe the heat is a phantom touch manifesting from how badly you crave it. The distance the gloves creates is grounding in a sense, its coolness and his cologne cutting through the tension in your mind. 

"...What do you need?" he asks, and even then you don't know who you're pleading to, but still you try.

"Please, Danny...I just want to forget..."

He's still staring at you, thumbs idly stroking your cheeks. His head tilts again, and as the silence lasts, you think you can hear his quiet breaths when you close your eyes, reveling in the smoothness of soft leather. 

Suddenly, his hold grows tight, a growing pain radiating over your skin under his strength. Your eyes fly open, and you jump when you notice just how much closer he's gotten. You can see the shadowed intensity of his eyes through the mask's black mesh, feel them burn into your soul as his hands tighten.

"Are you using me?" he hisses icily, and it's colder than the air around you or even bleeding to death in Mount Ormond's snow. 

Too scared to speak, you jerkily shake your head. You don't want to test his hold, don't want to piss him off any further. He could snap your neck so easily...

"Do you _l_ _ove_ me, then?" he asks just as cold, grim humor lacing his words. He backs away just so he could look down on you; his gaze is patronizing, like he's scoffing at the very idea of it. 

You can't see his eyes, can't decipher what you think he needs to hear. But you've found with Danny, the best thing to say was the truth; lying was never an option against someone so well versed in deception.

You let the words pour. 

"I don't know what I feel. I d-don't know what we are. I just k-know I want you. Only you."

You could barely make it through the words without stuttering, but it seems your apprehension only eased him more. Maybe it was the knowledge he still terrified you; maybe it was the fact he terrified you enough so you wouldn't even _think_ of trying to manipulate him. You didn't know, could only guess. All you _did_ know was how good it felt when his hands went back to holding you, softly brushing your bruises. Apologizing. Rewarding your obedience. 

After some time his hands lift from your face, traveling to the edge of his mask. Beneath the hard plastic is soft flesh and dark stubble, though his eyes are darker still. Everything about him oozes darkness; the bags under his eyes, his short hair. He’s a shadow, a beautiful one at that, but he’s as much the beast in the dark as the darkness itself. 

You want to touch him, want to embrace that darkness for the emptiness it brings. Shakily, your hands raise to his face. The plane of his cheek is rough and prickly, but so, so warm. The rain around you freezes everything around you to a chill, and you huddle closer to him to escape it.

His arms tighten, eyes watching you carefully when you drop your hands to loop your arms around his neck. You inch yourself closer to him, still quivering when your bodies align. You weren’t scared of dying. You were afraid of what he’d do to you, so open and vulnerable and _alone_. Even when you close your eyes, breathe in deep his scent of cheap cologne and faint-coppery sweat, you can’t help the tension in you.

He sighs. His hands have started rubbing small paths over your hips and back, almost like they’re trying to coax you to relax. You like that idea better than him using you for the feel of willing, giving flesh. Your body obeys. His head rests atop yours.

The silence is steady. Even though your thoughts still race, they do so like distant static. Every so often you hear Danny inhale what your presume to be your own scent. You don’t really think you’d smell so great covered in grime and mud and whatever the hell else, but his own sighs and nuzzling convinces you you’re good enough for him even so.

”You know you’re mine, right?” Danny rumbles. He says it so easy, like it’s just a fact rather than a question. You nod your head and he kisses the top of it.

”You’re so quiet today,” he continues, and in his voice you hear traces of mirth and the closest Danny will ever get to concern. His observation in itself is enough of a sign to you anyway. 

“Wonder what’s running around in that pretty little head of yours...” he pushes. He lifts his head from yours, and you’re forced to look in his eyes as you part. 

His eyes tear into your soul, ripping apart your guard and reading you like the book you are. You can’t hide anything from him, but still an anxious swell builds within you from the explanation you think he demands.

You can’t even begin to put into words what you feel he already knows, so you settle for the next best thing and shrug your shoulders. “A whole lot of stuff but I’d rather it just be you.”

He smirks, hands sliding down to your ass in a comfortable grasp. Warmth radiates from his palms and finally, _finally_ you feel something _good_ stir you. He lets the question go unanswered.

”Think I can arrange that,” he purrs, and you fingers twitch where they rest on his shoulders. 

Your lips meet in a surprisingly chaste kiss. You’re not expecting it. You’re lax where he presses firm and deep. Like he’s consuming you. Your fingers curl into his tresses and pull him closer. 

Danny licks devilish heat over the seam of your lips. His tongue caresses yours and you let out a soft moan, that budding pleasure simmering with each touch. He’s tainting your mouth, saliva mixing like sickly syrup. He’s too sweet. It’s not right. You’re thinking too much.

When you tug his hair, he groans deep. You nip the tip of his tongue the same time you press your chest again him. His hands grip you tighter to still you and you ease out a moan you’d have otherwise left trapped. His easy pace remains unchanged.

His tongue makes it way to your jaw and neck, teeth following it to leave trails of red. Each bite shocks you with pain, like sparks from the growing fire within you. They settle between your legs in a growing heat. You want his hands lower.

”D-Danny please,” you whisper. He merely hums, moving to the opposite of your neck. 

“See...that’s the thing with you,” he starts, words ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You take every little thing that’s good to you and push it all away.

”Even the things, the _people_ , that make you feel good. You use them to make you feel like nothing until nothings all you’ve got...”

But to Danny, you were his everything. He’s never felt this way before. He knew he didn’t love you. He didn’t feel remorse, so how could he feel love? That’s all it led to. All he _did_ know was you were his, and Danny took care of what was his.

He rests his head in the crook of your neck and pants, helpless to the overwhelming powerful _need_ building within him. A dark resolution grows the longer he holds you, eyes burning like a candle, wax dripping into a pressed seal.

“I’d kill for you-- _h_ _ave_ killed for you. You’re _mine_ , and don’t you ever fucking it.” 

Heat’s what you wanted, and Danny packs it in every word he confesses. You were _his_. There was no using him, no forgetting. If anything, you were _his_ to be used. You stamped your seal with him from your first kiss, signed your will for the last.

You wanted it. _Needed_ it as bad as he needed you. You inch your hand down the slick length of his body and curl it over his growing desire.

”Yes, _please_. Make me yours,” your voice wavers as you plead. You feel him throb through his pants. 

Your lips collide in a painful frenzy. There’s more teeth than before but ask and you shall receive. You’re barely given any time to breathe and when you do, it’s because of his mercy; you breathe in his breaths.

He’s groping you freely now, so tight it’s borderline painful. You love it, press back into his hands then push up against him because you don’t know what feels better.

He’s groaning, loving how you’re squirming. Or you think so because that’s all he is—a predator; a bloodthirsty animal playing with it’s prey. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is but you’re absolutely throbbing in your jeans and can’t deny it.

Your nipples rub roughly against your shirt, because apparently bras were nonexistent under a deity as voyeuristic as the Entity. Danny pinches them and twists them this way and that, and your head lolls to the side as the sensation travels to your head in sharp waves.

”God, you’re so beautiful,” Danny murmurs in your ear. You push up against his touch.

His teasing doesn’t last as long as you thought it would. His hands make their way down your sides, thumbs sliding over the edge of your jeans and meeting the bare skin of your hips.

“Y-yes, Danny, _please_ ,” you mewl, shyly kissing him in encouragement. As much as you loved the rough treatment, his fangs were still sharp. 

He chuckles lowly when you pull back, “Fuck, you’re so adorable.” A blush warms your cheeks.

He stares deep into your eyes, and something in your chest blossoms this time. It’s different than your arousal, makes your breaths stutter in a good way and for once...you’re not kicking it out. You feel a smile ghost itself over your lips and you think you see one on Danny’s too.

His hands guide you to the forest floor. It’s damp but you’re too busy arching into his caresses to really pay much mind of it. This time your tongues meet in a sultry tango, twisting and curling together. You suck the tip of his between your teeth when his thoughts are too distracted with sliding off your pants.

You break away from his heat when his palm presses against your arousal. Fuck, his hand was so big. So warm. The cloth of your panties stick where you’re soaked, provide a rough friction over your clit when he starts rubbing you up and down.

Danny pants into the crook of your neck, shuddering at how easy you bare your neck, how helpless you are squirming from his hand. “Sound so pretty,” he mutters before setting back on his heels, and something in him snaps when you sigh sadly from his missing touch. 

He rips your shirt over your head just to see your furious blush and wide eyes. All of your attention was on him, and boy did he put on a show taking off his own clothes. Danny was smooth, lean muscle. There was a slight, hairy pudge to his stomach, though you knew better than to underestimate his strength. 

When his own pants spill beside his shroud, your eyes zero in on his own arousal. Danny smirks, hand crawling down to grope himself through his black briefs. Fuck...he was so thick. You didn’t even think before you found yourself slowly sitting up, crawling the few steps forward it took to get to him. He’s sitting on his heels still so you have to lean over to press your nose against him through the fabric, heady musk flooding your senses. 

Danny...Everything about his scent was him. All you had to think about was him. Danny told you pretty things and made you feel whole. You were whole because you were part of him. 

Appreciation flushes throughout you, and you kiss up his length to show it. His hand reaches to the back of your head, other one sliding down the fabric enough for his cock to peek out. His fingers curl into your head and press you forward.

Your hands wrap around his uncut length when you hold it still, rubbing your lips up it from root to tip. He tastes like sweat and something else, something unforgettable that taints your tongue when you lick his slit. You lean back, wait until he’s looking into your eyes, before you spit that taste into your hands, rubbing them before you’re slickly pumping him with them.

“Fuck...such a dirty slut,” Danny pants, pupils wide as your lips wrap around him. It’s hot, wet. Tight when his hips buck into your mouth of his own accord.

He tastes so good. 

You don’t savor him long, enough to get the point across before he’s tugging you off and shoving you back, ripping your dignity away as he invades your space. He’s right in your face when he bites the tip of his glove between his teeth, pulling it free before his bare hand gropes your breast.

“F-fuck,” you shudder, legs wrapping around him when you clench over a wave of arousal. He was taking you, owning you. His other hand massages your lonely breast when he does it again.

Your own hand slides between your bodies to pump his cock, sticky from meeting your slick thighs and the pre cum beading from it. Your eyes plead, and his cock pushes through your hand as you and Danny guide it to your soaking entrance.

It slides in almost like home. It hurts just as bad. 

You both brokenly moan. You’re shaking from the sensation of being filled, and you feel Danny quiver from holding himself back. You can’t help the clench that shudders through your body, and he can’t help the way his hips buck into it. Your bodies were calling for each other, both so helpless to each other, and when you dig your heels into the dips on his back, Danny digs into you.

It’s hot, messy. You’re so wet, each slap of his skin on yours is loud and obscene. He fucks the life out of you with each thrust, and you can barely breathe when he slides out to do it all again. 

“F-fuck, _baby_ , you’re so tight,” he groans before he’s slamming into you, and all you can do is whine and give it up to him like the good slut you are. He grinds delicious heat deep into you.

Everything’s so dizzy. You can’t think straight. You don’t know if you should keep you legs open and relax your body, letting Danny move you as he pleases. Or should you keep your legs tight, force yourself to feel _everything_ he was giving you, all the way down to the hard veins rubbing over your sensitive walls?

You come with a sudden cry.

It’s a white hot bliss of pure pleasure and appreciation. Your sounds echo as much, and Danny echoes them when he pounds you through your orgasm. In a few more thrusts, he’s coming deep into you. Your body’s still clenching when you feel him pulse with each load pumped into you.

The high lasts even minutes after you both lay sweaty and panting in each other’s arms. Danny slips his cock from you with a quiet hiss, and you clench when his tip passes just to be cheeky and hear him hum. 

You feel his come dripping from between your folds. His fingers curl it up and shove it back into your hole, kissing and tonguing you deeply at the same time. You feel good. For once in your life, you feel _alive_. You feel tears well in your eyes.

Despite his reputation as the cruel killer he is, Danny helps redress you and holds you for a while longer even after. His hands smooth over your bruises as you sob into his arms. You’d never felt this way before, and you were completely and totally _his_ in admitting your weakest state.

Danny didn’t know what love was, but the closest he got to remorse was hearing your broken sobs, feeling you shake in his arms.

It made him angry, but not at you. Not even really at the Entity, for without his mistress, how else would he have found you? No, Danny was furious at those who’d hurt you, twisted you so badly that even now you were still picking up the pieces of the heart you pretended you didn’t have. 

He was angry at himself for not being there to protect you, for even letting you get this damaged to begin with. Logic told him he couldn’t help it, he wasn't there then, but you were Danny's, and Danny always took care of what was his.

When the whispers of the Entity grew shrill and dread replaced the pleasure floating within you, Danny kissed you one last time before his mask returned—and yours as well. 

Though bound through death and tragedy, you and Danny found the closest thing to love you could amongst a realm in which it got you killed. You were still as much his victim he was your killer, but in the end you were still _his_. 

The rain still poured.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any tags I missed or you think should be added, especially for triggering themes, let me know!!
> 
> Also I edited this a few times but not as a whole thing so if there are mistakes, I apologize and will try to catch when I reread this down the road.


End file.
